


Call and Answer

by fiddleyoumust



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: Mitch and Auston treat sex like hockey.





	Call and Answer

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this as "mildly dubious consent" because there is a lot of Auston's internal monologue about not wanting to ask for what he wants and thus Mitch doesn't actually know if what he's doing is okay. Auston is fully into all of it, but it wouldn't always be obvious to Mitch under the circumstances. Anyway! Better to warn than not to warn and trigger someone. If you want to ask about specifics before you read you can hit me up on twitter at the same handle.
> 
> Special thanks to DostoevskyBrosK on Twitter for the beta. You're a rock star!

Auston can’t stop looking at Mitch. He notices the wet hair sticking to Mitch’s ears after he’s showered, the mole on his chin and mouth, the other one near the flare of his nose. There’s an odd beauty to Mitch’s face that makes Auston feel nervous and queasy -- like he’s swallowed something hot and slick -- which is not exactly a ringing endorsement for a feeling, but Auston kind of likes it.

Mitch has a slender throat and slender wrists. For a hockey player, he’s slender everywhere. Auston sometimes reads the comments on all the articles about “The Leafs’ Rookies” and everyone’s always saying how Mitch needs to bulk up, put on weight so he can take a hit.

The thing is, Mitch can already take a hit. Auston’s seen him do it. Hell, Auston’s done it to him in practice: slammed his body hard into Mitch and pinned him to the boards because Mitch had the puck and Auston wanted it. Auston always wants the puck, but maybe he wants it just a little more when it’s Mitch he’s taking it from.

Which is probably how this whole thing started in the first place. Auston wanting Mitch to give him something he doesn’t quite have the courage to ask for. It’s got Auston all turned around: his head a mess of images of the two of them together on Mitch’s bed. 

Being with Mitch is something Auston imagined a million times before it happened. Only not, because Mitch has this way of bending the world around him, of getting what he wants from it and everyone in it including Auston. 

Maybe Auston most of all. 

Auston knows everyone told Mitch he was too small for the NHL. He’s heard Mitch complain about it often enough -- about how they told him, even if he made it, it wasn’t likely he’d get drafted by the Leafs. Yet here he is, making his debut with the team he’s loved his whole life in the league that told him he’d never make it. 

There’s a lot of things Auston doesn’t understand about Mitch, but they have that in common at least. They’re both competitive to a fault, and they don’t like being told no. Neither of them like being told they can’t have something they want.

Auston shakes his head and looks up. Mitch is suddenly there, finally done with the media scrum and standing in front of Auston with a small smile on his face.

“Where’d you go?” Mitch asks.

He’s always messing with Auston, mocking him for being mister serious and stuck inside his own head all the time. It’s not like Auston can just come out and say, “I was thinking about you fucking me the other night. I was wondering how I could get you do it again,” because that’s embarrassing and also Mitch would like it too much. Auston can’t have that.

But Auston’s also never been the type to give up. Mitch has something he wants, and now Auston is going to have to figure out how to get it from him. He’s looking down at Auston like he can see everything Auston’s ever tried to hide. Auston hates it -- hates him a little too for refusing to be fooled by Auston’s bluff.

They have a day off tomorrow, and on the heels of a loss, most of the guys just want to go home, regroup and come back to the ice fresh and ready. They’re so close to securing a playoff spot they can almost taste it. Auston wants that too, and he’s going to pursue it relentlessly until he has it. He and Mitch aren’t so different when it comes to hockey. It’s just that Mitch never seems to feel any shame about the things he wants. 

They’re going to make it to the postseason together, but tonight, Auston wants to get on his hands and knees for Mitch. That seems more immediate. More attainable. Auston stands up, and Mitch takes a step back to give him room, conceding space so easily that Auston feels a small sliver of something. It feels like winning until he looks down at Mitch’s face and sees that smirk again. 

“I’m going home,” Auston says.

Mitch’s smile gets wider, and he says, “I’ll drive you,” which, of course, he will. He always drives Auston, but he somehow makes it sound like a command anyway.

Auston shoulders his bag and then grabs Mitch’s too because he can and he wants to prove something, if only to himself. Mitch only snorts a laugh at him and puts his palm against the small of Auston’s back, pushes him toward the door while Auston exhales and tries to breath through the nerves and excitement running just under his skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~

His apartment’s cold and relatively clean. Auston’s dad spent the previous weekend visiting, and he always picks up for Auston when he’s there. Mitch follows him up without asking, which is fair. Even if they both didn’t have sex on the brain, they usually spend most of their free time together goofing off.

There are probably a few beers in the fridge. There’s a small voice in his head that sounds a lot like his mother telling him he should offer Mitch something to drink, so he heads toward the kitchen, stopping only when Mitch grabs his wrist. Auston is sort of relieved by the distraction considering he’s spent the last couple minutes thinking about his parents, which is the last place his mind needs to be right now.

“Do you want something to--” Auston starts, cut off when Mitch pulls him closer and puts his mouth on Auston’s neck. 

Auston’s breath catches in his throat, and he shivers. God, it’s stupid how just Mitch’s mouth on his pulse point turns him into this desperate, needy mess. 

“I’ve got what I want,” Mitch says, pressing that smirking mouth to Auston’s collarbone this time.

Auston loves this so much. Loves Mitch taking what he wants like Auston’s body belongs to him, and Auston’s permission is a foregone conclusion. But, the competitive part of Auston’s brain isn’t going to let Mitch make all the plays here. He pushes back until Mitch bumps into the back of the sofa and then leans down to kiss him. Mitch perches his ass on the back of the sofa and opens his legs, letting Auston push closer, kiss him harder.

It’s a competition after that, like all things seem to be between the two of them. Auston uses his height to try and control the kiss, placing his hands on either side of Mitch’s head and tilting his face so he can have Mitch’s mouth where he wants it.

Mitch just laughs at him, a bright sparkling thing that makes Auston embarrassed and turned on at the same time. He wants to devour Mitch, or maybe he wants Mitch to gorge on him. Either way, they’re not nearly close enough right now, and there are too many clothes in the way.

“Take off your clothes,” Auston says, already stepping back to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss it on the floor.

Mitch raises an eyebrow and scoots off his perch on the sofa, but he doesn’t move to undress. Instead he drags his gaze over Auston’s naked torso to the growing bulge in his sweat pants and says, “Let’s go get you on the bed.”

Auston feels hot and shaky. A full body clench runs through him as he imagines himself on his bed, ass in the air for Mitch. That _is_ a foregone conclusion, and Auston feels so hungry for it right now that he doesn’t put up even a token protest when Mitch grabs his wrist and pulls him down the hall. 

In Auston’s room, Mitch pushes Auston’s sweatpants and underwear down over his hips and runs the palm of his hand over Auston’s warm, naked ass. A whimper bubbles up out of nowhere, and Auston pushes his ass into Mitch’s hand shamelessly. 

“You want it,” Mitch says softly.

It’s not a question.

Auston steps back and looks at Mitch’s smirk. He kicks his sweatpants off his feet and climbs onto the bed, turning his head over his shoulder to watch Mitch’s pupils dilate and his cheeks flush.

“ _You_ want it,” Auston says forcefully and smiles with satisfaction as Mitch starts removing his clothes with shaking hands.

The thing is, Auston does want it. His body feels like it’s on fire. His stomach keeps clenching and unclenching. He’s so lost in his own head that he startles when Mitch climbs on the bed with a bottle of lube and a condom.

Just like always, there’s a small part of his brain that rejects the condom. It’s fucking stupid because he and Mitch barely talk about this thing they’re doing. They’ve never talked about who else they’re fucking. Auston is -- when the rare occasion presents itself between games, and team, and Mitch -- still fucking other people. He’s pretty sure Mitch is too. 

Fucking bare would be monumentally stupid, but it would also be incredibly hot. Nothing but Mitch’s lube covered cock buried deep. Mitch taking what he wants from Auston and leaving him full and filthy when he’s done with him.

Auston’s cock twitches against his abs at the thought, and he presses his face into his pillow and groans.

“You’re so hot,” Mitch says behind him. 

He slides his palm up over Auston’s rib cage, right over his tattoo and then scratches back down hard, making Auston groan into the pillow again.

“Shut up and do it,” Auston mumbles. 

He’s not sure if Mitch can understand him, but he hears the click of the lube being opened and then Mitch’s warm finger pushes into him, and Auston’s brain goes staticy. Once they’re here like this, all the fight leaves Auston. He just wants it. Hard. He wants Mitch to take him. To not ask if he likes it.

A small part of him wants Mitch to not care if he likes it even though he definitely, definitely does. He just wants to feel it. He wants to turn off his brain and let his body _feel_ without having to make any decisions or ask any questions.

He wants Mitch to stop fingering him and start fucking him, but he doesn’t want to ask for it. He pushes his ass out and puts his chest against the bed, burying his face in the crook of his arm.

“Yeah,” Mitch says pulling his finger out. “I got you.”

Mitch dribbles more lube over Auston’s hole and rubs the head of his cock through the slick before he pushes in. Auston claws at the sheets and holds his breath, bracing through the pain of too much too fast with practically zero prep.

When Auston’s ears stop buzzing, he hears a faint litany of “fuck, fuck, fuck” and is surprised to realize it’s him. Mitch is still behind him, hips pressed tight to Auston’s ass while he waits Auston out.

Auston won’t ask for it, but he rubs his overheated cheek against the sheet and lets his breath out. It must be enough for Mitch because he starts fucking him, pushing into his ass hard and steady, dragging the head of his cock over Auston’s prostate on every pass.

“Your ass,” Mitch mutters. “I want to say right here forever.”

He rubs the base of Auston’s spine with his palm and puts the other hand on Auston’s hip as he slows his thrusts and grinds in, drawing out both of their pleasure.

Mitch has a sweet face but a filthy fucking mouth, on and off the ice. In bed, he’s obscene and humiliating. Auston loves it. He puts his arm over his eyes and listens as Mitch tells him exactly what he thinks about fucking Auston.

“You love this, don’t you?” Mitch asks, and Auston takes some satisfaction in the fact that he sounds out of breath. “You love getting on your hands and knees. Putting your ass in the air for my dick.”

Auston squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his stomach muscles and tries to figure out how close he is to coming -- if he needs a hand or if he thinks Mitch can get him there with just his cock and the filth he’s spewing. 

“A fucking slut,” Mitch says. “I bet if I pulled out and got up to leave you’d beg for it.”

A whimper escapes Auston’s throat because he would. He’s so close. If Mitch would touch him or if he could rub off against the bed, he’d come in a second. If Mitch pulled out and tried to leave right now, Auston would definitely beg. He’s close to begging right now even with Mitch fucking him so perfectly.

“Aw, you would,” he says. “It’s okay, baby. I’m going to fuck you until you come and then fuck you some more. Fuck you until it hurts.”

Auston wants that so much that his body chases that reality, clenches and comes completely untouched. He feels his seed hit his belly, unexpected and warm, cries out when Mitch reaches around and rubs his hand through it, brushing his knuckles over Auston’s softening and sensitive cock.

“So good for me,” Mitch says, his voice low and sweet.

He’s as good as his word. He keeps fucking Auston, well past the point where Auston would have asked anyone else to pull out and finish themselves. Auston’s ass is on fire, and every thrust is a jolt to his system, a shock that stopped feeling good as soon as Auston’s post orgasm endorphins abandoned him.

Auston clenches around Mitch, which doesn’t feel good, but it’s doing the trick. He feels Mitch’s thrusts getting sloppy. He knows Mitch is close when he presses his palm flat against Auston’s shoulder with one hand and grips Auston’s hip with the other. He holds Auston exactly where he wants him and comes in Auston’s ass.

He imagines he can feel it, the warmth of Mitch’s come in his ass, and he makes a mental note to try and figure out how to get Mitch to fuck him raw without actually saying the words. He’s terrible at words, but he’s good at this. He’s good at getting Mitch to give him what he needs without having to say.

Mitch pulls out and flops next to Auston, pulls his condom off and sets it disgustingly on the bedside table. Auston lets his knees slide out from under him, collapses next to Mitch and catches his breath while he studies Mitch’s profile.

Eventually Mitch gets up and fetches two bottles of water and a warm, wet washcloth. He makes quick work of Auston’s lubed ass and then rolls him over to wipe Auston’s drying come off his belly before handing Auston one of the bottles of water.

Auston downs it in one breath and tosses the empty plastic next to Mitch’s condom.

“You’re throwing that away before you leave,” Auston says. 

Mitch glances over and nods but doesn’t move to throw it away. Auston knows he’s going to end up tossing it himself later tonight when Mitch inevitably forgets.

“ _NHL 18_ before I go home?” Mitch asks.

“I don’t think I can move,” Auston says too honestly. 

He want to take it back immediately. Mitch will never let him forget he fucked him that good.

Mitch smiles smugly and says, “Yeah?”

“Oh fuck you,” Auston says, rolling his eyes.

Mitch is still smiling but something changes as he lies back down, stretching out along the length of Auston’s body. He looks at Auston softly and kisses him, pulls back and says, “You like it though, right?”

It never occured to Auston that Mitch might need him to talk sometimes. That maybe Mitch is feeling his way through this thing just as blindly as Auston is and that just because he’s good at reading Auston doesn’t mean he’s always sure he’s reading it right.

Words seem inadequate compared to how Mitch makes him feel. He wishes he knew the right thing to say to tell Mitch how much he likes it. He’s not sure the words exist to fully describe the way Mitch takes him apart, takes him out of his own head and just makes him _feel_.

“I like it,” Auston says uselessly.

But, he reaches out and squeezes Mitch’s hand, pulls Mitch back down to the bed and kisses him hard, as full of feeling as he can, and hopes Mitch understands.


End file.
